Just Say No
by Split Pea Soup
Summary: She knew it would be bad. You just don't go missing for four days and walk away unscathed. Not in their line of work. But she still hadn't expected them to be hanging onto life by the tiniest thread either. A/N: Mostly Tony-centric but features all Avengers. Tony/Pepper. No slash. Set before CA:TWS and ignores parts of Iron Man 3
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is my first fanfic that I've posted. I have about half the story written - just editing - so updates will be fairly quick in the beginning. Chapters varying in length. I have no medical experience nor am I a scientist in any way, shape or form, so please forgive any errors. No beta - all errors are mine._

 _Seems stupid to have to say, but I own nothing. Marvel, Disney, and all those people do. Suing me would be, in the words of Doctor Sheldon Cooper (Big Bang Theory), "the very definition of a frivolous lawsuit," so I would advise against it._

* * *

It was the smell that hit her first. Days-old body odor mixed with piss and vomit, weighed heavily down by the damp, stuffy air. Despite the thickness surrounding her, it was cold. She'd been in places like this before. Broken people in places like this before. Been broken in places like this before. It wasn't new to her. This time, though, it was different. This time, she wasn't here because of a target. She was here to rescue her family.

It had surprised Natasha that these men had become brothers to her. Raised to be a monster, an assassin, a spy - emotions were better suited for the ignorant, not her. But they had wormed their way into her heart and she would do anything for them: search the ends of the earth, break bones, slit throats, go into the deepest pits of hell to make sure her brothers came back.

She knew it would be bad. You just don't go missing for four days and walk away unscathed. Not in their line of work. But she still hadn't expected them to be hanging onto life by the tiniest thread either.

She needed to move. She needed to get them out of this hell, once and for all.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: These guys still belong to Disney and Marvel and all of those people._

* * *

 _4 Days Earlier_

"Hey, Cap. Sorry I'm late. Stupid meeting went over." Tony Stark, the world's most well-known billionaire and superhero, clasped hands with that of Steve Rogers - America's living legend and representative of all that was good and right with the world.

"Pepper finally get you to attend a board meeting, I see." Steve chuckled as he gripped the man's hand in return and patted his shoulder. He knew very well that the man beside him hated attending those meetings with every fiber of his being. They sounded a lot like the mission briefings Steve himself had to constantly attend - long, monotonous, and repetitive with very little actually being accomplished or necessary ninety percent of the time.

The two heroes had had a rocky start to their relationship, but after the events of New York, they had warmed up to each other a little and had even sparked up a sort of friendship. They weren't best buds, didn't see eye-to-eye on every issue, but they respected each other.

"Well, you know, when the boss says jump..."

A snort erupted from the patriotic man. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"What? I'm hurt, Rogers," Tony replied, hand covering his chest in mock horror. "I thought we were friends."

"Sure, Stark, whatever helps you sleep at night," Steve joked in response.

"Mmhmm, whatever. So, what did you want to talk about, Cap?"

Back in business-mode, the two made their way down the street. Crossing in front of a small cafe on their left, Steve let his gaze fall on the patrons seated out on the street, enjoying their beverages and the warm sun on their skin. This was why he kept fighting - for the people. Sighing deeply, he kept walking, Tony between him and the cafe, staying in-step.

Before the Captain could bring up the reason for their meeting, an explosion erupted from inside the building of the cafe. The resulting concussive blast threw both him and Tony across the pavement. Stars that should only be present during night, not the middle of the day, flashed through his vision.

Sitting up gingerly, Steve was unable to dodge the lump of metal that had been dislodged from the building and sent flying toward his head. The world tilted again for the second time in just about as many minutes as Steve tried to make out what was going on around him. Turning his head carefully to the side, he saw Tony still on the ground, holding his hands up to his head, deep grimace lines etched into his face, and a glazed, confused look in his eyes, blood trickling down from somewhere, collecting at his collar.

Steve wanted to call out to his friend, check to see if he was okay, but he couldn't quite get his voice to cooperate with him. A blur of activity distracted him. Men in black suits and sunglasses rushed up to the downed billionaire, helping the man get to his feet. It took Steve a moment to notice they were also helping him. He felt a prick of some kind, but when he looked down, he saw that the men were removing debris that he didn't know had been on him. One of the men mumbled a quiet "Sorry" as well.

 _But who were these men? Why were they here? And where were they taking Tony? Taking him?_ Steve struggled against the hands grabbing him as the words of the man in front of him started to filter through.

"It's okay, sir. We're Mr. Stark's bodyguards. We're going to get you out of here."

Steve's muddled brain was slow to process the words, but he calmed down and let himself be led to the black sedan that Tony was being ushered into as well.

Once in the car, Steve slumped against the harsh fabric while trying to get a look at Tony. It was hard to concentrate. Tony kept zooming in and out of focus and Steve felt like he'd just gone ten rounds with the Red Skull - or maybe it was Jose Cuervo with the way the world tilted no matter how hard he tried to right it. The pull of oblivion yanked him down into its midsts and Steve left the world of the conscious.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Still don't own anything. Still sad that is required on every chapter..._

* * *

"Wakey, wakey!"

It was the slaps to his face that got his attention, the words and their meaning a distant second.

"Ahh, welcome back, Captain!" The flash of brilliant, white teeth filled his vision and Steve was hard-pressed to figure out what he was looking at. It took a minute, but Steve's brain finally started to relay information to him - there was a man squatting down in front of him with a cheshire-cat grin and maniacal eyes. The man took up his entire vision - or at least the middle; the edges were blurred and pulsated - but he could hear others moving around. Lethargy and lack of coordination were his next sensations. Drunkenly moving his head so he could look down, he saw that he was seated with his arms and legs tied to the chair he was on, a needle dripping some kind of clear fluid constantly into his arm. He frowned at it.

A hand came into his vision and pulled his head back up so his eyes met that of the man's again. "Don't worry, Captain. We've taken special precautions to ensure that your body won't be able to metastasize the drug. You'll be as helpless as a kitten while we have... mm, well - a talk - shall we say?..." the man giggled at his words, "with your friend over there."

The man kept Steve's head propped up as he moved out of the way, revealing the crumpled form of Tony Stark. The hand left and Steve's head dropped back down to his chest, but his eyes stayed on the moving pile that was his friend.

Tony was on the ground, groaning, trying to push himself up onto his knees. He succeeded in getting onto all fours, his head resting on his right bicep, when a boot connected with his chest and sent him back on the ground; mouth open, gaping for air.

"Nooo..." Steve was only able to slur out the syllables. He wasn't even sure they were audible. "Sssstop." Steve tried to move uncooperative limbs - anything - to help his friend. The hand was back, holding his head against the high-back of the chair. Something that felt like a bandage tightened around his head.

"Now, now, Captain. Don't worry. We won't kill him," the man signaled to his comrades who took turns kicking the semi-conscious man's body, "yet." The sadistic laugh chilled Steve to the bone even in his hazy state.

* * *

Pepper Potts was frantic. She knew the man she loved would always challenge her in some way and make life miserable more often than not, but she didn't envision it would be because he was once again _kidnapped_! She had thought that after Afghanistan and becoming Iron Man and defeating space-invading neanderthals that the world and its crazy "super-villains" would back off. Apparently, she was wrong. And this time, poor Steve Rogers got mixed in as well. Pepper wasn't sure if she was comforted by that extra variable in this otherwise complicated equation or more frightened. Frightened that these people could not only take down Iron Man (despite Tony not being in his suit, it was still hard to catch him unaware or unprepared), but also America's Golden Boy as well.

After news of the explosion in the Lower East Side circulated the airwaves and internet, Pepper's worry over her missing boyfriend turned to blind panic as she watched a clip of him and Steve being carted into an unmarked, black sedan. With a worried Happy next to her, she knew that it wasn't one of their cars that had helped the obviously wounded men.

News channels began bombarding her phone and email immediately, asking for an update or a statement regarding their health. She had been able to hold them off so far with vague replies and 'no comments' and the like, but the longer they remained missing, the more knots that formed in her stomach.

Luckily, JARVIS had notified SHIELD for her and the search was on. Happy had been keeping her company and trying to keep her mind off her missing boyfriend as much as possible while the rest of the Avengers were called in to locate their missing teammates. All she could do now was trust that they would find him before she lost him for good.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry for the delay - adulting got the better of me._

 _Disclaimer: Not mine_

* * *

The beating lasted several minutes, though to Steve it felt like hours. By the end, Tony had lost all ability to protect himself, splayed out on the ground. He had been curled up into a ball, but that was quickly rectified by the eager assailants. The man was somehow holding on to consciousness, but Steve didn't know how or why.

During the entire thing, the man whom Steve assumed was in charge had sat in a chair next to Steve and acted as if he were at a sporting event, commenting to Steve on the techniques used and locations hit. The man, thought Steve, was truly a sadist.

As they watched Tony slowly and painfully try to curl back up around his battered chest, the boss man got to his feet and circled him. He stared as Tony managed to tuck his right arm into his body, the left still exposed. Studied his face as Tony haltingly drew his knees closer to his chest. Tony - oblivious to the scrutiny he was receiving, breath stuttering around the pain - began to bring his left arm into the fold as well.

Steve saw it coming - even in his hazy, drug-filled stupor - but he couldn't get the warning out in time. Tony's scream reverberated through his brain as the Bossman (as Steve had now dubbed him) stomped on Tony's exposed left hand, grinding the broken bones beneath his heal like he was snuffing out the last embers in a cigarette stub.

Tony futilely tried to remove the foot that now trapped his hand to the ground, but the obstruction remained, the Bossman watching the smaller man writhe in pain. Steve fought back the tears that Tony couldn't.

When Bossman seemed to have his fill and Tony tumbled into oblivion's abyss, he motioned for his goons and walked back to his seat by Steve. Together, they watched as Tony was cuffed to chains that hung around a pipe and coiled on a rotating lever on the wall behind. No care or mind given to the man's inability to support his weight.

* * *

"Where are we at, people?" Director Fury could be one of the most stoic, patient assholes in the world when he so desired. Having two of his prized people stolen out of his backdoor with no clue as to who or why not only left him seething, but made him anxious. He didn't like not knowing what was in store.

So far, no one had reached out to either SHIELD, Stark Industries, Pepper directly, or any media outlets to announce their accomplishments. While that was probably incredibly smart on their part, it left Fury annoyed; he wanted - no, needed - a clue of some kind.

Extensive and exhaustive concentration on the car that had taken both Tony Stark and Steve Rogers had led to a dead end. The tracker that Mr. Stark had hidden inside his arc reactor was either malfunctioning or had been disabled. Even JARVIS was getting snippy and frustrated over the lack of information at hand.

"Sir, still no word from either Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, or the kidnappers."

"Well keep on it. They couldn't have just disappeared out of thin air."

"Working on it, Sir." If he could trust anyone to help the Avengers find their missing teammates, it was Maria Hill.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Getting into the longer chapters now. I just break off where it feels appropriate, so apologies for the fluctuations. Also, here's one of the times where I did some research and made some assumptions and guesses about science. It's all a little above my head but hopefully I fudged enough to make it passable / believable..._

 _Disclaimer: Everything still belongs to Marvel, Disney, and all that._

* * *

Steve drifted off, pulled unconscious himself by the effects of the drug. When he awoke, Tony was still hanging limply from the chains. The only difference now being that Tony's shirt, shoes, and socks had been removed - the arc reactor casting its eery, blue glow around the darkened room. Thankfully, they had left his pants on.

 _Small mercies_ , Steve thought.

He couldn't understand what the man wanted from him...them...Tony. Steve knew he was drugged and wasn't all there, but he was pretty sure the man had said he had wanted to _talk_ with Tony. What they had done to Tony, that wasn't talking.

With his head strapped to the back of the chair, Steve had a direct view of his friend. The man looked a mess. His arc reactor looked fine, but the rest of his chest was a mass of reds. Some spots had already started to discolor with bruising as well. Tony's head had also taken some licks and blood was slowly dripping down from his nose and a couple of cuts on his cheekbone and hairline. His hand - the one Bossman had squished like a bug - looked gruesome and disfigured. Steve hoped it would be salvageable - Tony needed his hands.

A moan from across the room broke his ruminations.

"Tttony?" His voice was still way too soft and slurred. "Tttony?" He tried again, putting as much force behind it as he could.

* * *

Tony struggled to come awake. He definitely didn't remember having a good enough time last night to warrant the hangover from hell he was currently experiencing. And there was this annoying trickle down his face and neck. Confusion gripped the genius as he strove to get his arms to cooperate and wipe the liquid away.

And then the pain hit - hard and fast. The sensation of being stabbed by a million knives up and down his left arm took his breath away, which set off the fire that flamed across his chest and sides. On a scale from one to ten, this was a solid twelve. Stumbling, trying to take the pressure off his arms - or at least one of them - Tony finally got his body to do as told and stand, albeit on extremely shaky and unreliable legs. As the pain receded a tiny fracture, Tony's breathing evened out and he was able to take in his surroundings.

There, across the room, sat Steve. Tony's brow wrinkled in confusion yet again as he watched the man's lips move but no sound made it to Tony's ears. In fact, all Tony could hear with any certainty was a loud, high-pitched buzzing. It was oddly familiar but he couldn't place it.

Shaking his head to try to clear the buzzing away only made his head and vision swim. It also sent a nice spike through his brain, so he resolved not to do _that_ again.

"Steve?" Even his own voice seemed muted and disjointed. He watched as Steve's mouth moved a mile a minute. "Can't... Steve... Buzz... Head..." He closed his eyes against the pain. A whimper on his lips.

* * *

Steve watched as Tony whimpered, his shackled right arm being used to prop his head up. Tony was swaying drunkenly, trying to stay on his feet. _Probable concussion then._

"Tony?"

Steve had tried to talk to Tony before, but it had taken the man a long time to even realize Steve was in the same room. Then, he had mumbled something about not being able to do something and maybe a buzzing? If only Steve's own brain didn't feel so fuzzy, he could decipher Tony's message.

A metal door behind him banged open. Bossman strolling into Steve's vision.

"Ahh, good. You're awake." Bossman moved over to Tony, manhandling his chin so he could stare into his eyes. "Do you remember me, Mr. Stark?" Blank eyes returned Bossman's scrutiny and Steve knew that even if Tony did know this man at some point in time, he didn't know him now.

"Mm." Turning around and walking back towards Steve, Bossman continued, "It's okay. Good actually." He dragged the chair he'd used previously from Steve's side and closer to Tony. "You may not remember me, Stark, but _I_ remember _you_. And, at the end of the day, isn't that all that matters?" The sadistic look was back in the man's eyes. Steve didn't have to even see it - which he couldn't, staring at his back - to know; his voice displayed his glee loud and clear.

Surprisingly, Tony seemed unperturbed. Maybe the concussion was worse than Steve thought, but Tony just swayed in his chains, staring down Bossman.

The staring contest and the resultant quiet lasted for over five minutes before Bossman jumped to his feet and returned his chair back by Steve. He patted Steve's head patronizingly, walking back out the door. The clang of the metal slamming shut ringing through the air.

Steve wanted to ram his fist into the smug man's face.

* * *

"Doctor Banner, any theories as to who would take Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers and why?"

Bruce had been in his lab at the new Avenger's Tower when Pepper had crashed in, sobbing that Tony and Steve had been taken. Now, hours later, he was once again holed up in a lab. This time, however, instead of helping Doctor Cho develop actual, synthetic tissue, he was searching for his best friend and team leader.

"Well, I don't have a name or anything, but I've narrowed down the search area to a handful of locations." The disbelief on Fury's face matched Bruce's own feelings.

"Excuse me? How, may I ask, did you come to this conclusion?"

"The new element that Tony re-discovered and now powers his arc reactor emits a unique electromagnetic wavelength that can only be hampered by nanocrystalline grain structure ferromagnetic metal coatings without canceling out his reactor altogether."

"..."

Bruce sighed at Fury's blank stare. "A special enclosure that doesn't actually block the magnetic field, but rather draws in his EM field and provides a path for the magnetic field lines around the structure."

"Okay. So are these nanocrystals hard to come by?"

"No, they are used all over," Fury groaned at his words, "but there are a finite number of them in the world and that is significantly less than _anywhere_ in the world."

"And you think they're being held in one of these locations."

"It makes the most sense."

Fury massaged his forehead with the long fingers of his right hand, sure signs of an oncoming headache. "Can you narrow it down further, Doctor?"

"I'm using some of Stark's servers with JARVIS' help to run a background check - if you will - on the most likely places; see if there are any connections with known bad guys."

"Keep on it, Doctor, and let me know if there's anything we can do to help. I just hope we can narrow it down in time for us to get them out alive."

Bruce's silent nod of agreement was all Fury needed before he headed back to the Bridge to inform the rest of the team of their one, albeit slim, lead.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

* * *

They left them in the room for what felt like days. It was probably only hours. It didn't matter to Steve. What mattered was that his friend was stubbornly clinging to consciousness because the alternative was to hang by his wrists. Steve could already see the bite marks the cuffs had etched into his skin.

Tony's breathing was the only sound in their little room. Steve hadn't really taken the time to check out their new living quarters. All he knew for certain was that it was cold, dank, dark, and cold. _Wait, he may have already mentioned that. Stupid drugs._ Not that he could do a proper search anyway. Along with feeling like he was in the Twilight Zone - _thanks for that something-you-missed suggestion, Tony, by the way_ \- the band around his head was annoyingly debilitating.

"Steve?" Steve could hear the pain and exhaustion in the man's voice as he shifted his eyes to his. There was something else in his voice that Steve couldn't decipher, though. The fact that Tony didn't even try to cover up his emotions alone was a testament to how tired the man was. Tony faced everything with sarcasm and wit, never letting the enemy nor his friends see him as weak. Right now, though, the mask was gone.

"Yeah, Tony?" Steve could feel the effects of the drug waning. His vision was getting sharper and his words stronger. If they could wait just a little longer, he might be able to get them out by himself.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, Tony, I'm okay." Steve actually chuckled at the question. He was both surprised, yet not, when the man's first coherent words to Steve were not about his own health, but Steve's. "You? How're you doing?"

"Tired." It was more of a breath than an actual spoken word, but Steve still heard it.

"I know, Tony, but the others are looking for us. They're going to find us. We just have to hold on."

Tony nodded mutely, eyes fluttering.

"Tony! Stay with me, okay? You gotta stay awake!" His eyes cracked open once more. "That's it, Tony, stay with me. Talk to me, okay?" A nod. "You know," Steve snorted, "I still don't know how to properly pop a bag of popcorn. Not without burning it anyway."

A smile tugged on the genius' lips. "'t's okay. No one does. 'Pends on the micr'wave." Despite the exhaustion and slurring, Steve understood the words.

"Sure, I guess, but why is it always done perfectly when we have movie night at the Tower?"

"J'vis."

"Oh yeah. Keep forgetting about him." Tony gave him a bewildered look, offended someone would forget about his favorite person - well person to Tony.

The door being thrown open interrupted their conversation. The redundancy at which the man entered a room grated on Steve's nerves - or maybe it was just the man himself.

"Gentleman," Bossman cheerily greeted the two superheroes, "I see you are both awake. Excellent! I hope you had a lovely night? I know I did. Stark, how was your sleeping accommodations? I hope you won't give our nice little B&B a bad review - those are so hard on an establishment."

"What d'you want, Jerk-face?"

"I see your biting retorts are not what they used to be, but I'll let it slide for now. Just know, I expect better in the future." Bossman had carried in a clear bag filled with liquid while talking with Tony, monkeying around with something behind Steve, and as Steve felt a fresh wave of nausea and weakness he'd come to recognize as more of the drug entering his body, he belatedly realized what the Bossman had been carrying.

"I bet tha's what all your partnerss have said." _What was Tony talking about now?_

Bossman smiled and snapped his fingers. One of the goons that normally accompanied Bossman - Steve only saw one at a time, but had counted four different men all the same - crossed into Steve's vision and gave Bossman a small ampoule. Tony glared at the man, his head still semi-cradled by his right arm.

Bossman, for his part, looked nonchalant, unworried, like normal, as he strolled back over to Tony.

"Do you know what this is, Stark?"

"Your anti-crazy meds," Tony replied while glaring.

Bossman ignored the jab. "This is a new drug we've been working on. It's really quite fascinating, I'm sure you'll agree. I'm not really a chemist, so please don't ask me what's in it - but what it does? Now that's the fun part. It's a sleep inhibitor - a souped up NoDoze, if you will." A giggle accompanied his announcement. "This little vial packs enough punch to last 24-hours. Imagine that, just this little bit." Bossman shook the bottle of reddish liquid that couldn't be more than a tablespoon's worth. "But, for you, we're going to up the dose. See how that works. I mean, you can't put warnings on the label if you don't know what an overdose could do, now can you?"

"Leav'em 'lone!" While Steve couldn't actually do much of anything, he'd be damned if he wouldn't put up some kind of fight.

"But, Captain, I haven't even gotten to the best part yet." Turning back to Tony, Bossman pocketed the vial while gesturing to his henchman to inject Tony with a prepared syringe. Tony's eyes widened when the drug rushed into his veins. Bossman smiled his creepy smile. "I see it's already starting to work. That's great! Mark that down. Now," pulling out another vial, Bossman held it up in front of Tony's now-alert eyes, "this one is still in the beginning phases, but it's supposed to enhance sensations like pain and pleasure. Sadly, we've already done some tests on the pleasure end of the spectrum, but we're hoping you could help us with the pain tests. Hmm?"

The henchman stabbed Tony with another syringe. Steve tried to yell, but the drug was diminishing his speaking ability again.

Tony's face screwed up in pain as the drug started making its way around his body.

The deranged smile of Bossman turned deliriously happy.

* * *

"Doctor?" Bruce looked up to see Fury, Thor, Clint, and Natasha walk into the lab, varying levels of concern evident on all their faces.

"Bruce, were you able to narrow down the locations?" Clint leaned over a monitor to try to decipher the myriad of code running down the screen.

"JARVIS and I were able to cut the list down to five probable locations."

"Five? That's doable." Natasha looked calmly over at Fury, but Bruce could tell she was far from calm. None of them were.

"Yeah," Clint chimed in, "we'll send out agents to all five locations and determine which one has our friends."

"Yes and we will exact revenge for whatever slight may have befallen our brethren!"

"No."

"Excuse me?" Clint looked ready to murder Fury.

"We can't send in teams to go looking for them. If these people were able to take Cap and Stark out, I'm not putting my other - _non-superhero_ \- agents up against them. They want Avengers, they'll get Avengers."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep _The Other Guy_ at bay. "If we choose wrong, we'll have wasted time and God only knows what they are doing to Tony and Steve. We need to find them fast. It's already been two days."

"Then I suggest you choose your first target wisely." Gaping mouths and murderous glares followed Fury out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: This chapter's quite short and kind of filler, but it broke off nicely here so I went with it._

Disclaimer: Not mine. Marvel, Disney, and all of those people still own them...

* * *

It didn't make sense to Steve. After the injections, neither Bossman nor his crew did anything. Bossman just sat in the chair again, next to Steve, smile still in place.

Tony fought for control but Steve could tell the pain from his chest and hand were drowning him. And because of the sleep inhibitor, he couldn't escape the pain in the world of unconsciousness either.

"You know, Captain, I've been wondering - and I wish I would have thought about this earlier - but, the arc reactor in Stark's chest. Do you think it's painful on a daily basis?" The lunatic turned to look at Steve for his answer.

Maybe it was the drugs, but Steve couldn't see where the man was going with his question. Bossman must have noticed the confusion on his face.

"Think about it, Cap - you don't mind that I call you Cap, do you?" Steve glared at him. "Cap, that piece of technology sits right over his sternum and based on the reactor I saw when I toured his factory many, _many_ years ago, I would assume that it's not exactly flat. Which means, a good chunk of that thing is actually inside his chest cavity. Get where I'm going yet?" Bossman glanced over again. Steve remained angry. "No? Well, I assume they had to crack his sternum and maybe remove some ribs to get that thing in there. Couldn't have felt good, by the way. Anyway, so there this hunk of metal sits in a spot designated for a pretty big piece of bone. Do you think on a daily basis, it hurts for him just to breathe? I would guess it would. I would also hazard a guess that his lung capacity has been diminished by it as well - what with not being able to fully expand his lungs or anything. OH! I wonder if that makes him more susceptible to sicknesses like pneumonia or bronchitis. And to think, I could have gotten my answer if I had administered the drug before I let my boys at him." He huffed out a displeased breath. "Poor foresight on my part. But, what do you do?"

"Yyyou're psssychotic."

"I prefer misunderstood." Bossman rose to his feet. "Do me a favor, Captain. Watch over him for me." The demonic smile was back as Bossman went over to the chains and loosened them from their spot on the wall. Abruptly, Tony fell to the ground, chains falling on top of him. Steve cringed at the pained yell that tore from Tony's lips as his arm hit the floor.

Once again, the four henchmen surrounded Tony and took turns kicking and punching his already-abused body.

* * *

They hadn't. Chosen wisely, that is.

Bruce and JARVIS had ranked each of the five locations in probability of holding their friends based on location, owner, and distance from the abduction site.

They hadn't been in Montreal and now, three days since their friends had been taken, they could cross Kentucky off their list as well.

Bruce poured over the data he and JARVIS had collected. There were three more high probability locations, but he wanted to make sure he hadn't made a mistake like he'd already done twice today. His friends needed him and he'd already let them down twice. Time was of the essence. He refused to fail them again.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Apparently I only adult on weekends. Here's another shorter one before they get longer again..._

 _Disclaimer: Still belong to Marvel and Disney, I assume._

* * *

"St've?"

It had been hours since Bossman and his cronies had left Tony even more battered and bruised than before. From the sound of his breathing, Steve could tell that at least a few ribs were cracked, possibly broken.

Steve had just woken up. While Tony was medically unable to sleep right now, the drug that was coursing through Steve seemed to have the opposite affect; Steve found it near impossible at times to stay awake.

"St've?... 'Wake?"

Steve jolted his eyelids open to look down at Tony. Thankfully, they hadn't restrung him up yet, but the chains remained, imprisoning his arms and inhibiting his movements.

"Yeah, Tony, 'm up. You 'kay?"

"No." The quiet admission scared Steve more than he was willing to admit. Tony _never_ admitted to being sick or hurt.

"How long've I been out?"

"Dunno." A breath. A cough. A groan. More silence.

"St've? Tell me story?"

"What kind?"

"Dunno. Dis'raction."

"Did I tell you 'bout...?" Steve didn't get to finish.

"Sorry to interrupt story time, boys, but I think Cap needs some more medicine and... phew! Stark, you stink!"

It was true. While Steve didn't know exactly how long they had been captured, he knew it had been at least a day, maybe more? The drugs were dulling his concept of time. However long, he knew neither him nor Tony smelled particularly pleasant.

Steve also figured that even though they hadn't been given any food, they must be supplying them with nourishment somehow - probably while he was unconscious. He had hunger pains, but it was more like when he was a child and they were on rations than actual starvation, and he didn't necessarily feel dehydrated either. Part of the current stench was a testament to that.

During his speech, Tony had managed to sit up on his knees, arms weighed down by the heavy chains, his body silently waving back and forth, eyelids half-closed in his exhaustive state, but still very much conscious.

Steve heard a noise behind him. A fireman's hose appeared next to him, but his brain couldn't supply him with a reason why. That was quickly rectified when water shot out from the end, sending Tony tumbling into the wall behind him with its force.

The _shower_ didn't last long, but it was enough to have done its job. Tony lay crumpled against the wall, arms circled around his chest, body rolling in agony, back facing Steve.

"Bass-tard!" Steve managed to get out.

Another blast of water pounded into Tony's back as the man yelped in surprised pain. Moments later, the water was turned off once again, Tony writhing in fresh misery.

"Aren't you supposed to be setting a good example to the people of America, Cap? Deplorable language," Bossman continued to grumble and gripe and tsk about Steve's word choices.

"Think it'ss mo' 'cause o' my honesty," Steve managed to lace his slur with some venom for the Bossman.

Bossman laughed loudly at that. "And snark on the side? Stark, you've got some competition!"

Tony was once again facing them, arms circled around his chest protectively, a shiver working its way through his limbs and body. Even from where Steve was sitting, he could see the dark bruises that were forming on the man's frail frame. He didn't know how much more the man could take.

Steve's attention shifted back up to Bossman as he took in a deep sniff, kneeling over Tony. "Ahh, that's much better, don't you think? Oh my, Stark, you're heating up." Steve strained to see if Tony was indeed flushed or not. "Why didn't you say something sooner? We'll turn the heat down for you don't you worry." Bossman's crazy eyes danced with glee as he stood back up. "Have a good evening, boys. Toodles!" Bossman waved his fingers at Steve as he exited the room.

Steve groaned as he felt the air dip even colder in their prison, his already cold body shivering to warm itself. The sigh of relief that came from the other side of the room, though, worried him deeply.

* * *

It was early on Day 4 when Bruce woke up his fellow rescuers.

"I've found their location!" Bleary eyes - eyes that hadn't slept restfully for nigh-on four days locked onto his.

"You sure this time?" Bruce tried not to take Clint's skepticism to heart, but he knew it was his analysis that had caused it to be there in the first place. "Sorry, Doc, didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's okay. I understand. But yes, I'm - rather, JARVIS and I - are both certain that this is where they're holding Tony and Steve."

"And where is 'this?'" Natasha asked, jumping down from her makeshift cot.

"Colorado. JARVIS has already uploaded the coordinates to the quinjet."

"Then, let us go and get our friends back!" Despite the strain of the past couple of days, none could suppress a smile at the thought of getting their friends back.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: A smidgen of harsher language in this one, folks - like one word, maybe two. Just a head's up._

 _Disclaimer: Not mine._

* * *

Tony had absolutely no sense of time anymore. His body shivered one moment from the intense cold, then was on fire the next. Delirium, exhaustion, pain, nerves frazzled. One moment felt like a lifetime while the next was gone before he could blink. Time was relative anyway, right? Someone - he couldn't remember who - had said that once. Right? His body and his mind wanted release from the torture but the drugs in his system countered their wishes.

He hardly even noticed the goons had come back and strung him up in the chains again. Didn't notice when his legs couldn't support him and all of his weight fell to the responsibility of the shackles and his wrists. Whatever. They were like an extension of his body at this point. The pain a constant.

"Shut up!"

The order came with a fist to his face, but Tony had no idea what the man was even talking about.

"I said, 'shut the fuck up!'" Another punch.

There was that annoying buzzing in his ear again. _Was there a bee in here?_

More words. More pain.

He was stuck in an infinity loop - there was no getting off the cycle. For some reason, the thought made him giggle. Or, at least, he thought he giggled.

The pain was intense. Crippling. But at the same time, it was almost like Tony was detached from it. Kind of like he was looking down as his body took beating after beating.

"Enough."

The sharp pains turned into deep aches. Still just as debilitating, but less knife and more burn. The noises were muted, except for that damn bee, but even that was starting to quiet. Tony opened blood-shot eyes to peer blearily at Steve. The man just sat there but Tony couldn't figure out why he wasn't busting out of the chair and helping him.

Tony hung there, uncomprehending anything that was happening around him. He watched Steve's mouth move but nothing was making its way to his ears. "Wha...?"

Fire. That was the only word Tony could think to describe it. His back had been set on fire. And as the flames licked his tender skin hotter and faster, Tony couldn't hold back anymore and screamed.

* * *

Tears streaked down Steve's face as he watched his friend die before his eyes.

It had been hours - perhaps days! - since the water episode. Bossman hadn't returned but his lackeys had, periodically, to administer more drugs. Sometimes a shot of fluids or nourishment. Steve wasn't altogether sure.

During this time, Tony moaned and whimpered almost constantly. The only indication to Steve that he was still awake. Still alive. The misery resonating in each sound a constant, steady reminder to Steve that the man needed medical help; he wasn't even sure if Tony was aware of the noises he was making. One moment, he would be shivering, teeth rattling. The next, the man thrashed about trying to escape the heat. There was no relief. Steve didn't know if it was an infection or a side-effect of one of the drugs Tony was given. It didn't matter. If help didn't come soon, Tony was going to die at the hands of these monsters. As it was, Steve - in his more lucid states - could see and hear the watery rasp and the unnatural movement of his chest with each breath.

This session, they had kept him hung up by his arms - Tony doing little to prevent the sharp metal from digging into his flesh, hanging mostly limp, straining his back and shoulders. The henchman of the day had been very bothered by Tony's whimperings and tried to beat them out of him. When that didn't work, Bossman moved on to their newest torture: a flog.

The crack of the multi-headed whip and the resultant scream that flooded out of Tony's mouth brought more tears cascading down the Captain's cheeks. He hadn't meant to, but Steve had been counting the number of lashes. They were currently at seventeen and Tony had already sagged in his bonds.

Blocked by Tony's body, Steve could only see the blood that splashed the walls and floor after each strike, Bossman himself becoming doused in the red that flew off with each strike. From the amount of blood alone, Steve knew Tony's back was a mangled mess of meat. If he had any skin left at all back there after this was over, it would be a miracle. The thought had Steve vomiting for the second time since the torture started.

Closing his eyes and ears, Steve stopped counting and focussed on his body and his restraints. He could feel a little bit of the drug evaporating and flexed his muscles, testing their strength. He heard the fabric holding his head in place tear just a smidgen. Steve opened his eyes to see if his captors had noticed. They had not.

Resolved, Steve tried harder. The sound of metal straining gave him a jolt of adrenaline. Another flex and the chains broke free. Eyes flying open, Steve charged at the nearest goon. He was still a little uncoordinated, but now that he was free, he was determined to succeed. He lunged at Bossman next, seeing a different kind of red - the red of anger - over everything that he had done to Tony.

His bid for freedom didn't last long. The sudden, familiar sensation of dizziness and haziness had him reeling. Opening blurry eyes, Steve saw Bossman smiling wickedly towards him.

"Whoops, we almost missed your scheduled dose, Cap. Wouldn't want that to happen now would we?"

A strange, pathetic sound filtered Steve's brain and he remembered Tony. Stealing a look, he could see the man, pale and defeated, eyes locked onto Steve's. Tears matching his own falling down silently.

They locked his arms and legs back in the chair. The needle he had ripped out during his attack reattached to his arm.

Another noise - a distant noise - filtered through his brain now. Steve noticed alarm register on Bossman's face and a flurry of activity left him dizzy once again, oblivion calling to him. He tried to keep his eyes open as Bossman made his way back to Tony.

One shot. Two shots. Three.

Steve tightened his fist around the vial he had snaked out of Bossman's pocket during his attack. If he knew those sounds correctly, help had finally arrived. He only hoped it wouldn't be too late.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Switching fandoms for a moment but: May the Fourth be with you all!_

Disclaimer: Nothing, not even a little, itzy, bitzy piece do I own.

* * *

"Steve!... Steve!... Steve!"

"Go 'way."

"No can do, buddy. Calvary's here."

Steve pried his reluctant eyes open to the face of Clint Barton. Blinking rapidly, trying to decide if he was dreaming or not, Steve couldn't help the grim smile that touched his lips.

"Hey, Hawk."

"Hey yourself, Cap. How you feeling?"

"'Kay. Drug'd. Better 'an Tony." It was that thought that had Steve's sleepy eyes shoot back open. "Tony!"

"It's okay, Cap. We've got him." Clint moved aside. Tony was still hanging from the chains, but Natasha was there, speaking to him in low tones.

"Hey, Cap." Steve tore his gaze away and refocussed on the man next to him. "Can you walk?"

Steve tried to shake his head no, but it ended up just flopping around. He figured Clint would get the message.

"Okay. No worries." He touched his hand to his com. "Thor, we're going to need your help."

Steve didn't hear the reply, but it was seconds later that the God of Thunder sat in front of him as well.

"Captain, how fair thee?" Steve tried to smile up at the giant.

"He's been drugged, Thor, and it's gotta be pretty powerful to knock Cap out like this. Here." There was rustling behind Steve, but he focussed instead on Tony. "Take this with you and tell Doc that it contains the drug he's got in his system."

"Aye." Steve felt his bonds fall from his arms and legs, but was unable to help. Thor gripped his waist and helped heave Steve to his feet. A sudden whooshing sound and Steve found himself sailing through the air, trying not to vomit as the world flashed by.

* * *

Clint was trying to keep down his breakfast. Like Natasha, he'd seen all this before, but to see his friends - his brothers - like this made him sick.

He had rushed towards Cap while Natasha took Tony. Cap had been pretty out of it, but he looked stable otherwise. After Thor whisked him away to the quinjet, Clint turned towards his partner.

"How's he doing, Nat?" Natasha had hurried over to Stark once she got over her initial repulsion to the situation. From the state of his body, she didn't really expect him to be alive.

She gently cupped the genius' less-injured side of his face with one hand while checking for a pulse with the other. His skin was clammy and almost translucent. Dull, pain-filled eyes shifted to take in her presence. Startled, Natasha tried to recover by allowing a small smile.

"Hey, Stark. We're going to get you out of here, okay?"

The man slowly blinked, opening his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. Silence, except for the wheezing sound coming from his lungs. His eyes closed for a long moment and Natasha thought he'd fallen unconscious, but he lifted his lids just as slowly, staring back into her eyes. It took Natasha another second to realize he had just blinked his understanding and consent. The effort to talk must have been too much for the downed billionaire.

Natasha took a moment to look over Tony's injuries and figure out the best solution for releasing him from the chains. The man was clearly exhausted - bloodshot eyes bore into her, never leaving her face; each blink occurred as if it were a laborious movement. His chest and face were a mottled collection of purples, blues, and blacks. She could see a few ribs out of place, a few undoubtedly cracked, perhaps one or two broken. Part of his chest moved unnaturally, opposite of his lungs as they struggled to bring in air, lips tinged with the slightest blue. His face was bloodied, new wounds added on top of older ones, blood drying in various places. His listless eyes swarmed with agony, pleading with her to stop the pain.

"Stark, can you hear me?"

A long, intentional blink. A cough. A splotch of red lining his lips.

"Hey, Nat, how's he doing?" Clint had finished up with Cap and was now approaching quickly, determined.

It took all of Natasha's resolve to tear her eyes away from Tony's. In her peripheral, she could see him try to follow her with his eyes. She shook her head minutely at the archer, her lips pressed firmly into a tight line. They worked long enough together for him to know what the look meant: they needed to get Tony out of here, now!

"Okay, you help stabilize him. I'm going to pick this lock."

Natasha turned back to the injured man and found his eyes make their way back to hers. They were a little slow, but they were tracking and he was responding, albeit only slightly. Whispering words of encouragement, Natasha held Tony's arm and body up in preparation for his release.

"Nat," Clint breathed toward her. She glanced over at the man, his eyes locked on Tony's back. Keeping her face stoic, Natasha nodded over to her partner, knowing without seeing that it must be something horrible. She could hazard a guess based on the blood splattering the walls and floor behind him, but she couldn't break down in front of this man right now. His eyes were glued to her face, as if accepting that everything would be okay because she had said so. She couldn't let him see the hopelessness that was quickly flooding her, drowning out the spurt of elation at finding them alive.

Clint swiftly removed the cuff on Tony's left arm. Natasha keeping him up. They slowly lowered the limb over Clint's shoulder as the archer gripped the back of Tony's pants to keep him upright. Pants that she absently noted were a little too big on his thin frame. She almost missed the extra pained look that flashed across his eyes as Clint adjusted the grip on his arm. The movement wasn't much, but it was enough to make the man's eyes pool with unshed tears.

Once Clint had a hold of Tony, Natasha picked the lock on the cuff on his other arm, catching the limb before it fell uncontrolled. She gently wrapped the arm around her shoulder and reached behind to latch onto Tony's pants as well, careful not to touch his bare back. Slowly, they started walking, Tony doing little more than sagging between the assassins, dragging his feet behind.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. Still trying to figure out some of the intricacies of FF (it's been a busy week) so sorry I haven't gotten back individually. This is also the part where I say that I have no great medical knowledge, but some research went into this. If I got it wrong, either let me know or pretend. Whatever floats your boat._

 _Also, there's this little minion I know that is turned the big 5 today and my presence has been requested for the weekend. I don't know how any of yours' interactions with 5-year-olds go, but mine consist of basically being a jungle-gym / life-size toy / pillow during movies so the odds of me getting another chapter out before Sunday night / Monday is zip. I will be mentally working out how this story turns out in the meantime (and possibly sneaking off to go see Civil War? Yeah, fat chance :-/ ), so enjoy your weekend all!_

 _Disclaimer: Not mine._

* * *

The walk back to the jet was slow. Tony tried to help, he really did, but his body just wouldn't cooperate. Both assassins admired his attempts anyway. He was silent throughout the journey, but showed signs of lucidity and awareness when Natasha talked with him. Never with Clint though.

Clint had called ahead to ask Thor if he could fly Tony out as well. After listing off some of his injuries, though, Thor and Bruce both agreed that it would be better if they got him out on foot. Flying tended to put a strain on Thor's human counterparts.

Finally reaching the back hatch of the plane, Bruce helped guide them to a gurney, indicating they should lay him propped up to help his breathing.

"Bruce," Clint softly called the man's attention. Bruce turned questioningly. Clint didn't want to say anything - it was bad enough looking at it - but in consideration to Tony, he motioned for Bruce to check it out for himself.

There was a soft intake of breath as the Doctor took in the damage. Clint glanced back to see Bruce pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn't blame him. Tony's back was a crisscross of red; strips of flesh hanging off haphazardly - almost as if he had been filleted with a knife, muscles exposed underneath. In one spot, the white of bone could be seen peaking through the gruesome site as well. Clint could see the Doc trying to keep the Hulk at bay.

"Doc, what do we do?" He watched as the Doctor swallowed around a gag.

"We have no choice. We have to lay him down on his back." Blue eyes met brown, silently communicating their distaste but understanding of the decision. Clint and Natasha brought the broken man to the gurney.

Lowering Tony gently so he could sit on the platform first, Clint and Bruce guided his mangled body down. As his back touched the soft, white linen, Tony's eyes once again locked onto Natasha's, pain flooding the widened orbs, a silent shout of pain on his lips. He unsuccessfully attempted to arch is back from the offending pressure, his head pushing feebly into the mattress, the hand still holding onto Natasha's squeezing with all its might. Once situated, Natasha leaned back over his right, less injured side and caressed his cheek, words of reassurance resuming. Bruce started quickly attaching leads and IVs on the other side as well as assessing his injuries.

Clint scampered into the pilot seat, fired up the engines to began the journey home.

Minutes later, Clint switched on the autopilot and headed back to check on his friends, JARVIS maintaining the coordinates as well as a fast, but safe flight. Thor was sitting with Steve, who sat rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around his stomach, bucket by his feet. Thor gave Clint a reassuring smile as he spoke softly to their leader, his hand rubbing the man's back comfortingly.

Making his way further back, Clint sidled up beside Bruce. In addition to the myriad of tubes snaking their way into and out of his friend that had been placed when he left, a breathing mask had been added to the mix.

"How's he doing, Doc?" The look on Bruce's face did nothing to reassure Clint. Natasha was still whispering softly to the engineer, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Not good." Clint glanced questioningly towards Bruce. "This isn't exactly my area of expertise, but besides his obvious injuries, something's not right."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. His vitals are all over the place and not at all what a person would expect given his... condition." Bruce fiddled with some instruments that were beyond Clint's knowledge.

"Yeah, I'm surprised he's still conscious."

"That could be from the shock, but I agree. Has he said anything?"

"Not to me. He's only responded to Nat so far."

Natasha looked up at the pair at the mention of her name. Tony's eyes slowly following her face, then her gaze. His eyes flickered over their faces.

"There's plenty of time for that later." At the sound of Natasha's voice, Tony's eyes drifted back to the redhead, eyebrows knit in confusion.

Bruce frowned in consternation.

"Doctor!" Thor's shout interrupted Bruce's musings. "Come quickly! The Captain requires your assistance."

* * *

Bruce hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave Tony in his condition, but with a quick "watch him," he scooted around the gurney to the side of the jet where the Captain and demigod were seated.

"Steve, what is it? What's wrong?" The super soldier was shaking, sweating, and vomiting when Bruce got to him.

"His symptoms have gotten worse, Doctor. How shall we proceed?"

After giving the man a quick check-up, Bruce found himself frowning once more.

"Steve," blue eyes filled with anguish looked up at him. "Steve, you're going through withdrawal. Whatever that drug was, it must have been highly addictive. We have the compound and we can do testing when we get to the Helicarrier, but I can't do anything for you right now."

"Ssss 'kay, Br'ce. I'm 'kay." Bruce rubbed the man's back for a moment before giving Thor instructions on how to help Steve through his withdrawal. Getting up, the Captain gripped his arm tightly.

"Tony?"

"He's hanging in there, Steve, but I'm not going to lie. It's pretty bad." The soldier nodded his head in understanding, but continued to hold onto Bruce's arm. "Steve, I have to get back to him."

"'Kay. Here." Bruce looked down to see a shaky hand holding onto a vial, the contents a reddish hue. Grabbing it before it fell from unsteady fingers, Bruce stared into Steve's eyes.

"What is it?"

"Ddrug." Steve's words were slurring even more as his body mourned the loss of the drug it had become dependent upon, his shaking becoming even more prominent. "Fffor Tttony."

"They gave him drugs too?" Of course they did. Bruce mentally smacked himself. _That would explain his paradoxical readings._

Steve nodded drunkenly. "Only one. Thhhree."

"What? I don't understand, Steve." A shaky finger pointed at the vial.

"Hhhad thhhree."

"Tony had three shots of this?" The soldier's head shook no rapidly before he turned green and released his stomach's contents into the bucket in front of him. Bruce grimaced. He really needed to get back to Tony.

"Diff'rnt."

"Different?" A nod. "He had a different shot?" Three fingers. "He had _three_ different shots!?" Another nod. "And this is...this is one of them?" A final nod.

Bruce stared down at the liquid in his hand. There was no label on it to indicate its use.

"Do you know what it does?" He waited for Steve to finish spitting and handed him a bottle of water. Another moment and the man was shaking his head. Bruce's shoulders slumped.

"Nnno sssleep." Bruce looked back at the man, sympathy radiating from his very being.

"I know, Steve. But you can rest now. We've got you." The man fervently shook his head again, biting back bile as he did.

"Nnno sssleep." Steve removed a hand from the bucket to point at the small bottle in Bruce's hands before returning it to its previous position. The lightbulb went off in Bruce's brain.

"This stuff keeps Tony from sleeping?" Nod. Bruce shared a worried look with Thor, a soft "shit" escaping his mouth. Another nod agreed with his expletive. "For how long?" Steve shook his head.

"Steve, I know this sucks, but do you know what the other shots were for?" One finger raised itself from the rim as the bucket was filled some more.

"Fffeel mmmore."

"Feel more?" Another nod. "Feel more what?" More puking followed.

"Doc! He's crashing or something!" The cry from Clint had Bruce moving back to Tony. He could figure out the rest later.

"Doctor!" Thor caught up to Bruce just as he reached Tony's side. "The Captain's last word was 'pain.'" Sorrowful eyes met for a second before Bruce turned his concentration back to Tony, his subconscious mind putting the pieces together for him: the second drug made Tony 'feel more pain.'


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Hope everyone had a great weekend! I did manage to catch Civil War. No spoilers or anything, just...yeah... Anyway, here's the next chapter. Not sure how fast the next ones will be coming out since we've now caught up to my pre-written portion. Also deciding where and how far to take this, but I'll try not to dally and have another one up quickly._

 _Disclaimer: Not mine._

* * *

It took longer than Bruce liked, but they got Tony stable. His heart had stuttered, stopping for a few beats, before resuming its rhythm, setting off a coughing fit - blood dribbling out of his friend's mouth - and triggering alarms across the medical equipment onboard.

Throughout the entire ordeal, though, Tony never lost consciousness. It unnerved Bruce, even knowing it was drug induced - which Bruce suspected was what was messing with his adrenaline and blood pressure levels. He needed to get to his lab and run tests on both Tony and Steve's blood to help his friends' odds of recovery and survival.

Natasha remained by Tony's side, reassuring the frightened engineer with words and tactile stimuli. Tony seemed calmed by her presence, but his eyes betrayed the fear and anxiety that coursed through him. Alternatively, Bruce found the man almost flinching at times when he would touch his arm when taking a pulse or injecting him with an IV and any response had to be relayed through Natasha.

It worried Bruce that Tony wasn't verbally responding. Normally, the man couldn't shut up, but aside from his panicked eyes, the only clue they had that he was aware of his surroundings was from the slight pressure he exerted onto Natasha's hand. One for yes. Two for no. Nothing more from the normally exuberant man than that. Bruce put it down to the trauma and mistreatment he had received at the hand of those sadistic men - and maybe the internal bleeding that was now apparent.

They landed not long after and Tony was whisked away to the medical bay on the 'carrier, Bruce relaying vital information to the doctors as they rushed in. A tall, muscular medic helped Thor support the queasy Captain, following the procession slowly. Natasha and Clint brought up the rear with the drug samples, aiming for delivery at the science labs.

* * *

The long day morphed into a long night as two healthy members of the team sat vigil outside the operating theater. Steve had been given a drug to counterbalance his withdrawal symptoms and the doctors said they would let them see him in the morning. Along with some malnourishment and dehydration - though better than anticipated - he was exhausted from fighting the effects of the drug in his system. Sleep was his greatest ally right now, as was the demigod who refused to leave the man alone.

Once their teammates had safely boarded the quinjet, Clint had had JARVIS contact Pepper while SHIELD sent a plane to get the strawberry-blond fireball. The CEO of Tony's company and heart was scheduled to arrive soon. Clint and Natasha were left dozing fitfully on the faux-comfortable waiting chairs.

* * *

After ushering Tony to the medical bay, Bruce had retreated to his lab - determined to discover what drugs were running rampart in his best friend and leader. Once medical had contacted him with news that the methadone to counteract the drug in Steve was working and that he was being monitored, Bruce had turned his full attention to Tony. Before he had left, he discussed his theories about the adrenaline with the doctor in charge. Last Bruce had heard, they still hadn't managed to get Tony unconscious - his body unable to get even a modicum of relief - so instead of being proactive with his treatment, they were forced to react to whatever Tony's body threw at them. Tony's survival, therefore, was based largely on Bruce's shoulders.

Bruce made a breakthrough in the early morning and rushed his findings to Tony's physician. Another two hours and the majority of the toxic chemicals were neutralized, Tony finally slipping into the world of the blissfully ignorant. He went into surgery soon after.

* * *

"Miss Potts?"

Pepper Potts started awake, the hand on her shoulder doing much to prevent her from pitching off the chair she had fallen asleep in that night.

"Doctor?" She wiped her hand over her eyes, trying to rub in some form of alertness. "Everything okay? How's Tony?"

"He's out of surgery and they're settling him in the ICU right now, Ma'am." Clint and Natasha shifted to listen in as well.

"Can I see him?"

"Once the nurses have him settled more, you are welcome, though he will be out of it for a while. And only one at a time. There isn't a lot of room in the ICU and we want to limit his exposure to any potential infections or bacterias right now so please be respectful of the ICU entry procedures." The doctor took a breath while the group nodded their assent. "I don't know how much Doctor Banner has told you."

"Nothing. I haven't seen Bruce yet. Clint said he was working on figuring out what drugs were given to Tony and Steve. Why? What's wrong?"

"From what Doctor Banner had been able to understand from Captain Rogers, Mister Stark was injected with three unknown drugs. One of the drugs acted almost like a super-adrenaline." He was met with three confused sets of eyes. "Basically, it caused Mister Stark to be unable to sleep or fall into unconsciousness - even medically so. Doctor Banner had to find a way to neutralize the drug so we could even operate on him."

"And now that you have?" Clint asked for Pepper, who seemed too shaken up to ask anything right now.

"He's still touch-and-go right now - that's why we've set him up in the ICU. I'm not going to lie, Miss Potts, baring any complications he should be fine, but it's going to be a long recovery."

"And the other two drugs?"

"According to Captain Rogers, one was injected with the purpose of amplifying pain and pleasure. We're not sure what was used or if it's still in his system and we don't know what was in the third drug or its purpose. Doctor Banner is still working to determine what foreign chemicals are still in Mister Stark and how to neutralize them." It took a minute for his words to sink in.

"What are his injuries, Doc?" Clint moved to draw Pepper to his chest in a half-hug for support. She looked faint at the doctor's words.

"Aside from having multiple, unknown drugs in his system and the resultant sleep deprivation, Mister Stark is also malnourished and dehydrated - both of which are being monitored and we have him on IVs to help mitigate their affects. He also has a mild concussion, but no hemorrhaging so he should recover just fine from that. Bruising and cuts on his head and face, but those should heal without scaring. Mister Stark has sustained, though, a ruptured left eardrum. From what I understand of the situation - and reflecting on the news videos I've seen - I'd say he sustained the injury from the initial explosion at the cafe - though it was exasperated with the continuous blows he received. Given time and proper care, he should regain some hearing back in his ear."

"Some?!"

"While normally a ruptured eardrum will heal up back to near normal, in Mister Stark's case, the explosion did quite a bit of damage. I would guess that he hasn't been able to hear out of that ear since the explosion, but I am hopeful that he will regain at least some hearing back given time."

"That would explain his behavior on the 'jet." Pepper's eyes bore into Clint's to explain himself. "Tony would sort of respond to Natasha, but not really to anyone else. We just assumed it had to do with the pain and the shock or something." The doctor nodded his understanding.

"Is that all, Doctor?" Pepper was hoping that was everything, but she knew it was wishful thinking.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Potts. Both of Mister Stark's shoulders have been dislocated, he has deep lacerations on both wrists, multiple fractures in his left hand, two broken and five cracked ribs - which resulted in Mister Stark being admitted with flail chest and one of the ribs punctured his lung, causing some slight internal bleeding. We've done surgery to reset his ribs and fix the internal bleeding, but we've put him on a ventilator right now to give his lungs some rest.

"It will take several weeks, but Mister Stark will be fine as long as we keep an eye out for infections. In his weakened state, it will be hard for him to physically fight off any infection nor will his chest and lungs allow him to fully expunge any potential fluid build-up. That is one of our main concerns right now."

"One of?" Pepper had found her voice, but feared the answer.

"Yes, one of three in particular." Another weary sigh from the doctor, like he was stealing himself for what was to come. "His left hand was badly broken and we've called in a specialist to come in to look at it once we've gotten some of the swelling down."

"Will... He'll still be able to use his hand though, right?" Tony lived to fiddle and create. He needed his hands for all of that. Pepper couldn't even fathom how Tony would react if he lost mobility in one of his hands.

"I can't answer that, Ma'am. That's why I'm bringing in the specialist. I'm also bringing in another specialist to help me with his back."

"What's wrong with his back?" The fear in Pepper went up exponentially.

"Mister Stark has multiple, deep lacerations on his back upper torso. The damage is extensive and may require skin grafts and more surgery." Pepper sucked in a gulp of air and turned into Clint's chest, seeking more comfort. Clint continued to rub Pepper's back in reassurance. "Right now, we are keeping the area as clean as possible until the specialist has had a chance to assess him."

"Is that all, Doctor?" Natasha now took up the reins for Pepper.

"That's everything for right now, yes." A pause. "Miss Potts, while it looks bleak right now, please know that we are doing everything we can to ensure Mister Stark has the proper care he needs and has the best chance of making a full recovery."

Pepper nodded her understanding, tears streaking down her face and gathering into the soft cotton of Clint's t-shirt. She didn't know how Tony would take the news. _Would he fight? Would he crumble? What would he do if he couldn't use his hands?_ _Could the man who had held her boyfriend for four days have possibly done what Afghanistan couldn't do in three months: had he found a way to break the great Tony Stark?_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Found time to put some ideas down on paper. Trying to keep it interesting, so let me know if it just falls off the deep end and dives right into snooze-ville. Ending a story is a bit harder for me since my brain keeps supplying me with more situations and scenarios that fit._

 _Also, thanks to all the reviews and follows and favorites. Didn't really post this with any expectations, just thought it was time to throw my ideas onto the internet and see if it motivated me to finish it. So THANKS everyone! Cool and humbling experience this has been._

 _Disclaimer: Once again, they are not mine. Sadness._

* * *

Sleep-laden eyes struggled to open. Somehow, the thin pieces of flesh that protected his eyeballs from being assaulted by flashes of light felt like lead. A soft brush on the back of his hand soothed his aching brain and the man struggled to ascertain answers to questions now filling his fog-filled mind. The struggle became too much and he decided to fall back into the calming abyss from which he had climbed out.

* * *

The recesses of his mind gave way once again to semi-consciousness and the man resumed his quest to open his eyes. Light blasted his retinae and his brain automatically slammed his eyelids back down. A groan attempted to break free from his body, but he couldn't tell if it actually escaped or not. He could feel a presence under his hand, still and warm.

Slowly prying his eyes open for a second time, Tony blinked in his surroundings. The cheap, white, stucco ceiling tiles materialized first. Rolling his eyes down, he found that the unknown weight under his hand was the hand of one Virginia 'Pepper' Potts. He idly rubbed his thumb over the skin on which it resided, a soft "Pep" on his lips.

Pepper jumped at the sudden motion on her hand. Tony watched, amused, as her tired brain tried to understand why she had been awaken. Her eyes soon drifted to her hand - the one Tony had continued to rub, although the effort was tremendous and he wasn't sure he was actually moving his thumb a lot - before snapping up to his face.

"Tony?" He did his best to smile at his beloved. "Oh Tony! You're awake!" Pepper gingerly cupped his head between her hands and kissed him. The kiss didn't last long, but it left Tony breathless all the same. He lazily smiled again. "Don't you ever do that to me again!" The chastisement did little to dim Tony's spirits. "I thought I'd lost you." He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, relishing in her closeness as her forehead pressed lightly onto his. He drifted, comforted by her closeness. Too soon, she was gone and a flurry of activity surrounded him.

Tony tried to pay attention to everything going on around him, but he found it harder and harder to follow along, the buzzing in his ear growing in volume and the pain in his head ratcheting higher, nausea joining the party as well. He closed his eyes, trying to regain the peace from when he first awoke.

"Tony?... Tony?"

* * *

Pepper stood aside as doctors and nurses came flooding into Tony's room. Once she had had her private moment with him, she knew that he needed to be checked over and had pressed the call button to alert the medical staff. She didn't expect there to be so much hubbub, though.

She noticed Bruce come in and had sidled up beside her, watching their friend and the activity around them. They both noticed the deep pain lines that set in between Tony's brows and the tightness of his closed eyes.

After the first few days, Tony had been moved out of the ICU and was allowed more visitors. The doctors said he was healing nicely - no infections so far. On Day Three, the specialists had come in and Tony had once again gone into surgery to fix his hand and back. This was the first time he had properly woken up since Bruce had found a way to sedate him five days ago and, though Pepper knew Tony needed the rest, she wanted him to wake up and talk to her and reassure her things were going to be fine, because as much as she trusted the doctors - and they had been incredibly wonderful so far! - she needed to see and hear it from the man himself.

"Tony?... Tony?" He didn't respond. The heart monitor jumped higher and higher and his breathing sped up. Pepper watched the orchestrated dance of the doctors and nurses surrounding her boyfriend, each movement purposefully choreographed to work around each other without distracting or interrupting another. A valve fiddled with here. A monitor checked there. Fluids and hoses there and there. Soon, the pain lines around Tony's eyes and mouth smoothed out and the pervasive beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound left, as doctors and nurses filed out of the room.

* * *

The next time he woke, Tony felt more coherent in his confusion. There were so many things he needed to know - _Was Steve okay? Was he okay? Why was Pepper crying?_ They all took a backseat to the aching agony that settled in his chest as his body began to wake as well.

Pepper was instantly there, stroking his cheek and murmuring softly to him as her other hand danced through his hair. He melted into her touch, straining his ears to hear her words as the pain rescinded to a more bearable level. Slowly, achingly, he tried to raise his hand to cup her face as well - after so many days, he just wanted to touch her - but when the pain became too much, he settled for brushing against her hips. She shifted, hand leaving his face and he was pretty sure he whimpered at the loss, but soon felt her hand in his and all was forgiven.

"Tony?" He shifted his eyes to look into hers, not noticing they had strayed to their hands. He tried to voice out a "Pep" in return, but it seemed to catch in his throat, water pooling in his eyes. "Oh Tony." She leaned down farther so that their foreheads were touching. "It's okay. I've got you. You're home. You're safe."

He breathed in her perfume and soaked up her caresses as he let a few beads of moisture escape. He honestly wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again and Pepper being present when he awoke bolstered his heart more than he could hope to express. He didn't know what he would ever do without this woman in his life. He took a few minutes before he gathered himself together and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Pepper slowly pulled away from their embrace only to return with a glass of water and a straw. Tony sipped gratefully, but slowly. He knew his chest was messed up - he remembered that much - and choking on water didn't seem like a good idea right now.

"How long?" It was funny. He knew he had mouthed the words and knew he had forced air out of his lungs and through his throat and vocal cords like usual, but no sound emitted. He tried again. Twice. Nothing happened besides a tingling sensation in his throat and a rising panic in his chest.

* * *

Pepper didn't notice a problem at first. When Tony opened his mouth and no words came out, she just thought he was trying to gather his strength or thoughts or both. When he repeated the process with the same results and his heart monitor started rising, her eyebrows knit in confusion.

"Tony, it's okay. Calm down. What's wrong?" His chest was heaving and his breath was stuttering. "Where does it hurt?"

He didn't calm down and his mouth kept opening and closing like a fish out of water. Panicking at his panicked state, Pepper pushed the call button.

Bruce rushed in before the doctors, yelling to get Pepper's attention. "Pepper! Pepper! What's wrong? Tony!?"

The hand on her shoulder snapped her out of her panic attack and she focused on Bruce. "What? I-I don't know what happened, Bruce."

Bruce gently pushed Pepper out of the way as he concentrated on his friend. "Tony! Tony, calm down! What's wrong?"

Tony continued to gape and tried to grab at his throat - the movement only halted by the extra pain that now coursed through his entire body. The pain also seemed to snap him from his own panic, eyes honing in on his friend.

"Tony, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. I need you to breathe, okay? Do it with me. In... Out... In... Out..." Tony started to follow along with Bruce's exaggerated breathing. Once his anxiety had lessened and he got his own breathing got under control, the man looked helplessly up at his friend. The look in his eyes causing Pepper's own to once again fill with water.

"Better?" The man nodded his head. "Good. Now, carefully, what's wrong?" Tony just shook his head, eyes pleading for understanding. "Tony, talk to me, please." He just shook his head some more, eyes momentarily filling up with the pain the movement caused while imploring Bruce to realize what he was trying to convey.

Bruce turned to talk with Pepper about what had happened when Tony grabbed his arm, squeezing twice. Looking back at Tony - his eyes closed, face taut with pain - his mind suddenly flashed back to the Quinjet, Tony's minimal responses to Natasha, and pieces started to fall into place.

"Tony?" His eyes snapped back open to Bruce's. "Tony, can you talk?" Eyebrows crinkled minutely, fear tinging the brown orbs. Bruce felt the pressure on his arm increase once, twice. Two weak, but distinct, motions.

Bruce's heart sank.

Tony Stark was mute.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Okay, so, a few things to note:_

 _1) I don't know the nomenclature for writing sign language, but I used single quotes wrapped around italics for it. No quotes, but italics are thoughts. Double quotes, no italics are spoken words. Confused yet? ;-) Hopefully, it makes sense when you read it._

 _2) I realize I've kind of diverged from Steve and his problems. That'll come back in the next chapter or two._

 _3) Thanks again for all the reviews and follows and whatnot - that's pretty cool and very motivating! Working on the next chapter, so hopefully that'll be up tomorrow or Friday (it's Wednesday today, right? Week's going by too fast). Anyway, hope this lives up to your guys' standards and expectations!_

 _Disclaimer: Still just using them for absolutely no monetary value and they still don't belong to me. Damn..._

* * *

A week had passed since he woke up. Tony was still recovering, but was being released from the Helicarrier to recoup at the Tower. He had had the worst of the lacerations on his back stitched up, his hand was in an external fixation, and his ear was still stuffed with cotton to prevent further tearing of his eardrum. Though he was exhausted, he was looking forward to getting off the 'carrier and spending some time with his bots.

Tony had spent the week he was (mostly) awake with Clint. With his new circumstances - he refused to call it a disability - he needed to adapt, to look forward, to be the futurist he always touted to be.

Clint had dropped by later that first day - when Tony found out he could no longer speak - and had convinced Pepper to get some food, rest, shower, whatever and sat with Tony alone. It was then that he had confessed to Tony that he was about 80% deaf. He knew a little of what Tony was going through - The denial. The pain. The adapting process - and he offered to teach Tony sign language.

At first, Tony refused. He didn't need to learn an entire language - that was overreacting. He was going to be fine and, once Bruce identified the chemicals that had done this to him, they were going to find a way to return his voice.

By the end of the day - after having to write everything down to communicate and gesturing with his uninjured hand anyway - Tony relented and asked Clint to teach him.

He found that Clint was a good and patient teacher. He also learned that Natasha also knew how to sign - which he figured was because they had worked together so long - and that he was a quick study, his hand rapidly picking up the movements. It was a little weird having to learn to read proper sign language with two hands and then modify it to utilize only one, but it wasn't nearly as hard as not being able to communicate efficiently at all.

In the end, everyone had sat in on Clint's lessons so they could understand Tony (and Clint, should the need arise). Bruce learned just about as quickly as Tony - big surprise! - but the others struggled. _Apparently, normal people don't pick up languages in just one week? Weird._

So now he was going home and his hand could start working its magic on what he really loved to do - well, at least for an hour or so a day _and_ with Bruce's supervision. It was like they thought he was a child, but after the scare they'd all received, he figured it would be best to do as they said... for now.

The ride to the Tower left him drained and in more pain that he was willing to admit. He managed to make it to his bedroom and slide slowly and carefully into bed without ripping stitches or jarring his ribs - he wasn't sure which one, at this point, hurt more - a silent sigh escaping his lips, and he was out before he knew it.

* * *

While Tony convalesced, Pepper tried to contain the media storm. It had been nearly three weeks since Tony had been seen in public - the now viral explosion video being the last time - and both the Board of Directors and the general public were in an uproar. Reassurances only went so far when the man himself couldn't be seen. Pepper had purposely kept the information from Tony, but now that he was back home and had access to technology, she doubted he would remain oblivious for long.

She sighed as she considered her options. She could either admit that Tony had been injured more seriously than had previously been reported - which Tony would abhor! - or she could gussy him up and call a press conference. Neither option was particularly ideal. She didn't want to parade Tony in front of the media in his condition, but stocks kept dipping as people speculated that the brain behind Stark Industries was dead or nearly so. She didn't want to think how right the latter had been.

Additionally, she was trying to prepare for the annual Stark Gala that was being held in three days. For some strange reason, Tony had convinced her and the Board a couple months ago that he would tackle the gala details and make it the best gala SI had ever had.

So now she was doing it.

And she couldn't dish it off to someone else without adding fuel to the media fire.

She rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the impeding headache.

At least Bruce was on Tony-duty while she tried to deal with all of this.

* * *

Rehab sucked. Whoever thought that causing one's body to bend and stretch and move and cause additional pain to an already abused skeleton was almost as sadistic as the men who put him in this spot in the first place.

But Tony did it because the alternative was worse. And he was getting stronger. And staying awake longer. And getting more bot-time because of it. So he willingly went.

It also helped that he was now determined to go to the Stark Gala in two days. Everyone was against it and had tried talking him out of it, but once he gotten word from JARVIS how stocks had dipped and that rumors were circulating of his death, he figured showing face would be the best way to alleviate the pressure on Pepper's shoulders.

For her, he doubled his rehab efforts. Worked on some new gadgets so he could appear as Stark-normal as possible. Aided Bruce in finding a cure for his vocal inabilities. Whatever he could do to lessen her load, he'd do it.

"Tony, I think I've found something." Tony looked up at his Science Bro, hope springing unbidden to his eyes.

Tony's right hand waved side-to-side, palm facing upwards. ' _What?'_

"I don't think it's a cure, but it might be a temporary solution." Tony listened as Bruce explained his theory. They had discovered that whatever the drug was that Tony had received, it caused his vocal cords to be unable to come together and vibrate as air went by, the vibrations actually the cause for sound and speech. All of the compounds they had tried until now did nothing to stimulate the cords. Bruce's discovery, though, in theory, would allow Tony at least a modicum of speech - allowing for a couple hours max - but it was enough time to make a showing at the Gala and reassure the world of his continued existence. "It'll be painful and it's not a permanent solution, Tony."

 _'I know, but it's a start,'_ Tony excitedly signed back. _'Let's try it. Gimme!'_

"Tony, we should do more testing first."

 _'We don't have time, Bruce. Let's give it a whirl and cut the time needed to modify it for the Gala.'_

"Tony, I really don't think..."

 _'It's fine, Bruce. I trust you.'_

"The compound does seem like a viable option, Doctor Banner," JARVIS un-helpfully added against Bruce's case. Tony smirked at the point in his favor.

Begrudgingly, Bruce manufactured enough of the compound to get a sufficient dose. Injecting the contents straight into Tony's throat, both men winced as the liquid was pushed through the plastic container, down the thick needle, and into Tony's vocal cords.

The pain was intense and Tony found himself on his knees, gripping his neck, Bruce at his side. Tony didn't have time to focus on the man's words as the tiny black dots that had started to invade his vision expanded and dragged him into unconsciousness.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Same format as before with the - "_ speaking," _'signing', thinking - codification_. _Also, this one kind of got typed out fast, so I'm sorry if I missed any typos and such - 3.75 hours of sleep is just not enough anymore for me to function well and this is what you get for it. Trying to keep everyone in character as much as possible, so apologies if I have failed._

 _Next update Monday - strange how I do more adulting on weekends than week days..._

 _Disclaimer: Not mine._

* * *

"Tony, no! You're not going. It's dangerous and reckless."

 _'Reckless? This is reckless? Going to a party with a bunch of superheroes is reckless? Wow. Okay. I think we need to review what the word "reckless" actually means.'_

"We still don't know enough about this drug to know what's going to happen after an extended period of time or usage."

 _'I'm pretty sure the definition is to do something without regard of consequences. Granted, that does sound like me on a daily basis, but I think this time we can say that the reckless level here is marginal at best.'_

"What if you and Bruce hurried too much and did the math wrong and then we're at this party that supposed to bolster morale and confidence and shine a good light on SI and here you are having a seizure or worse?"

 _'It's been two days and I've had like three doses. That's nowhere near long enough to be termed an "extended period of time" or "an extended use." Plus, Brucie-bear will be there. I mean, what's the point in having a resident doctor if we don't utilize him?'_

"I'm not that kind of doctor, Tony." He was ignored by both parties.

"Um, no. It is reckless if every time you get _injected_ with the compound, you pass out from pain."

' _That happened once._ _And excuse me? When have I ever done the math wrong? Well, there was that one time, but I'm pretty sure I was too drunk to even remember my own name so I missed like one decimal. It ended up being fine. Paid a little extra. No big deal.'_

"No big deal? We had to pay NASA over _15 million dollars_ for that mistake!"

 _'I think we're getting off topic here. It's one night. Everything's going to be fine. We're going to schmooze, the team will rub elbows with the bigwigs, people will know I'm alive and well, stocks will go up. It's all good.'_

"No, it's not all good. Tony..." Pepper followed Tony as he made his way to the kitchen, their fast-paced conversation leaving the remaining people in the living room a little bewildered.

"How do they do that?" Clint scratched his head in wonderment.

"Practice, I guess," Bruce supplied, leaning forward to cup his face in his hands. "I once witnessed Tony, Pepper, and Colonel Rhodes all do it. Three different conversations going on simultaneously - all three talking at the same time, yet all three knew exactly what everyone else was saying. It was exhausting just listening." He had a headache building as the couple's discussion progressed, his fingers gently messaging his temples to stave it off. He was sure it would only get worse as the night went on.

"I think I'm more impressed with JARVIS for relaying Stark's dialogue so authentically." Natasha said, sauntering into the room and snagging the chip that Clint was about to bite into. Clint glared at the redhead, grabbing another from the bowl in his lap, chomping down hard on the baked snack.

"Thank you, Agent Romanoff."

"Yeah, and Tony has a sign for 'Brucie-bear?' Classic." Bruce rolled his eyes at Clint. Some days, there were way too many jesters in the Tower.

Natasha smiled her recognition towards the AI, ignoring Clint once again, and sat down next to a sullen Steve. "Why so glum, chum?" She threw a friendly elbow at the Super Soldier, gently knocking his arm, causing him to list a little to the side.

"I agree with Pepper; I don't think Tony should be going to this gala." Natasha 'mmm'd' at his statement, neither agreeing nor dissenting, sitting back in the couch.

"Steve, I don't think any of us want Tony to go or think it's a good idea. But this is Tony we're talking about; if he wants to do something, he's going to do it. The more we push, the more he's going to defy."

"Bruce, didn't you have to sew up his back once already? He's only been home for - what, four days? - and he's already pulled stitches. He's not healed yet!"

"Steve, I get it, I really do, but this isn't my decision to make. I'm just trying to make it as bearable as possible for him because he's going whether or not we like it." Steve looked away in frustration. "We all just need to keep an eye on him tonight. Support him. Guard him. But we can't smother him." Steve glanced back and nodded his understanding.

"Yeah, and just be glad Pepper stepped in and switched us from being date-bait and party favors to faux fancy folk." Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint's attempt to lighten the mood, no matter how grateful each were for the subject change. "Still can't believe we have to go," he pouted.

Tonight was the big Stark Gala and all the Avengers were required to go. That had been part of Tony's original plan - have the guests bid on a night with one of the Avengers to raise money for this year's Stark Gala funds recipient. Pepper modified it to allowing all attendants the opportunity to mingle with the Avengers that night, increasing the entrance fee a bit but still allowing a huge sum of money to be raised for the charity. Tony had pouted at the change, but the rest of the superheroes had sighed in relief.

Pepper came back in the room, looking to Bruce as she did. "He's waiting in the kitchen for you. We'll leave once he regains consciousness." She snarked, eyes rolling in disgust.

Bruce stood up, calculating the different times in his head. "That should give the compound enough time to start working." He left, grabbing the syringe of 'Tony's voice' - as the billionaire had coined it - on his way out.

* * *

The clapping subsided. Tony was getting off the stage, smiling and acting his usual, boisterous, cocky self. His speech was pretty good, Steve had to admit, but he was very impressed with how normal the man sounded and acted. He didn't know Tony did it. Even with the serum, Steve felt like he was still recovering from his own withdrawal experience.

"Feeling old?"

"What?" _Of course Natasha had to sneak up on him and scare the ba-jeebers out of him!_

"Come on, Rogers. I can see it on your face." Quizzical eyes stared back, head cocked slightly to the side. "You're wondering how Stark can act so normal and look fine when you're over here still feeling the effects of withdrawal."

"How do you do that?" _Was the woman actually able to read minds now, too!?_

"It's a gift."

"Like your gift of scaring the crap out of people, popping out of nowhere?"

"I wasn't sneaking - you should have heard me. Though, they do say your hearing _is_ the first to go..." She laughed as his deadpanned, unimpressed expression.

"Funny."

Hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she steered him from the outskirts of the room towards the mass in the middle. "Come on, soldier. Let's mingle."

* * *

The man at the end of the great hall looked on. He was good at observing, seeing what others failed to notice. Most people, when asked, would say they saw the great Tony Stark commanding the room and the people in it with his charisma alone. But he was different.

He noticed that the billionaire had yet to touch a drop of alcohol tonight. _Very strange, for a purported alcoholic._

He saw the way the man's breath would hitch ever so slightly and the minuscule tightening of his eyes when he turned too quickly.

The way his girlfriend and the other Avengers always approached from his right, never the left - how he seemed startled when someone did.

The forced relaxed stance as he strolled about the room.

No, Tony Stark was not what he appeared. Something had happened. Something more than an explosion. And now their eyes were locked onto each other. A smile grew on the man's face as recognition spread across Tony's.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: I know the trend has been to delve into Tony's psychological turmoil and panic attacks and such in this type of story, but I don't really see Tony as being an angsty, whiney mess, so I'm not planning doing it. My Humpty-Dumpty only needs the shell put back together, not his scrambled yolk (brains) as well. Sorry to those hoping else-wise._

 _Also, got a couple reviews but as far as I can tell, FF hasn't posted them even though I said yes. But to those people / guests, I did receive them and read them. Appreciate y'all - Thanks!_

 _Disclaimer: Not mine. Except for the one that is mine. The rest are Marvel and Disney's, sadly._

* * *

Tony was in his element. Dressed to kill and captivating people simply by talking and smiling had him feeling almost normal since his ordeal. He missed talking - his oft purposefully, longwinded explanations to confuse Cap or Thor; arguing with Pepper; discussing new discoveries with Bruce; ordering his bots around and insulting them; being able to simultaneously give direction to JARVIS while still fiddling with his hands. It just wasn't the same when JARVIS had to relay everything he signed. So tonight, having his voice back even for just a few hours, was pure bliss!

It was unavoidable not to talk at the gala. Of course, everyone would want to talk with him, question him on where he'd been, talk about the Avengers and all their avenging, give condolences for his condition and being caught in the explosion, etcetera, etcetera. None of that mattered to him. This was the one particular gala each year where he would give a speech. If anyone else did it, it would just feel wrong. So he did it. He rocked it too, if he did say so himself. His mother had started the Stark Gala and had given it her attention, heart, and its purpose. It was the one time every year where he would stand in front of these people and ask for their money. For her.

That didn't mean that it wasn't hard. Every cell in his body ached and hurt and yelled for attention and it was taking all of his acting skills to hide it from everyone. He probably wasn't fooling most of his team or even Pepper, but they weren't hovering around him and making it obvious to others, so he'd take it. Plus, he'd done so much to ensure that these people didn't see all his physical wounds, he couldn't mess up all that hard work by putting on a bad performance.

While Bruce had been working on his 'Tony's voice,' Tony himself had been building an earbud that would protect his ear from the cacophony of a large gathering, getting the filter to jam the different speech frequency ranges that he would undoubtedly encounter that night. Then he had had to develop a more protective and comfortable sling for his hand. He and Pepper had discussed it and the media needed a reason why he wasn't seen for three weeks. Allowing everyone to see his hand in the external fixation would account for his seclusion, yet wasn't detrimental enough to dip stocks any further. That didn't mean he wanted to risk hitting it on something or someone and setting his healing back by weeks or cause permanent damage to the appendage.

The worse thing about the sling, though, was that the strap ran across his back, over the worst of his marks there, and rubbed when he moved too much. No matter what he tried, he couldn't find a solution.

The bruising on his face was easily covered up with some makeup he had designed years ago when he first started being Iron Man - like Vanko said, a bleeding superhero puts doubts in people's minds as to their effectiveness and need, so he'd designed a foundation that covered up the deepest bruises and swelling, yet made the face appear absolutely normal.

Overall, he thought he did a pretty good job with only a couple hours lab-time over the three days to work and one hand. Bruce and his bots helped out a lot, but they were all his ideas, so really, it was all him.

During his talk on stage, he had noticed a man in the back, standing on the fringes of the huddled group. He looked familiar, but as soon as he saw him, he had lost him again.

Off stage, Tony had been corralled by congratulations and all that other bullshit people who want to say they knew him said at these types of things. Raised to be polite - even if people didn't believe he possessed that skill nor if he ever wanted to employ it - he talked to all the other self-important, uppity CEOs, but kept his eye out for the man.

He finally spotted him later on in the night, their eyes locking, and he couldn't prevent his eyes widening in recognition, catching the smirk that spread across the man's lips.

Ryker K. Sawyer.

* * *

Ryker continued to move about the room, avoiding people and conversations as he went, his colleague moving silently alongside. Occasionally, someone would stop them and try to engage. His partner would reply, never him. This wasn't his crowd. He didn't like these people and he certainly didn't need or want their approval. He had one mission tonight and it was the man to whom he was slowly making his way.

It was like a dance. He would take two steps forward. His prey would take one step back. Circling and swaying. Two steps to the right, one step left. _Even with his hidden injuries, Tony Stark was a proficient dancer_ , he thought, laughing silently to himself over his silent, personal joke.

Tony got trapped by some guy in a fancy suit and his wife in her ostentatious dress. Ryker's own suit was modest at best. Again, not that he cared. He actually felt sorry for Tony, having to constantly show interest in people beneath his intelligence and class. _Then again, who wasn't?_ Ryker stopped to observe the interaction, not ready yet to make his move.

He watched as Tony smiled prettily at the couple, his teeth glinting in the light. Watched as Tony played his part in the charade of the evening: the consummate host. It was a different dance than he and Tony were currently playing, but a dance just the same.

Ryker's interest peaked when a new dancer pranced his way to the three talking. He approached from the left - Tony's apparent weak side this evening. A brutish looking man, he was broad and well-built; a bear of a man compared to the smaller, slighter billionaire. The couple talking to Tony hadn't realized the man's intent until a meaty hand thumped across Tony's left shoulder, jostling the genius and pitching him forward with its strength.

Tony grimaced and tried to wiggle his way out from under the man's hand, but the man had clamped down hard on the space between Tony's shoulder and neck, squeezing none-too-gently.

Ryker couldn't hear what was being said, but the three original talkers looked uncomfortable and offended at the man's actions - his obvious intoxication not helping in the least. The man only let go of Tony's shoulder to thump him again on the back before teetering off towards his next victim. Tony made a conciliatory gesture towards the couple and slipped into the crowd the opposite direction of the brute.

Though the evening was waning and the party-goers thinning, Ryker lost Tony in the crowd. It wasn't until a thunderous round of clanking glasses - _which, where did these people find the silverware to perform this action?_ \- that he caught Tony slipping his way out a side door.

Isolated. Injured. Alone.

Now was Ryker's time to strike.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: This one's a bit longer and I kind of rushed it, so apologies for inconsistencies or mistakes. I leave in a week for vacation and I'm trying to get this done in time. Getting close to done, so I hope it's been enjoyable for y'all!_

 _Disclaimer: Not mine. Not now, not ever._

* * *

"Have you seen Tony?"

"It's his party. He's probably around here somewhere."

"No, he isn't. Clint, I've been looking since the announcement. He's not here."

"Did you ask Pepper?"

"First thing I did. She hasn't seen him either and she's getting worried."

"Alright, alright. Let me grab Natasha and we'll start the hunt. But, seriously, he couldn't have gotten far. Someone would notice Tony Stark leaving his own party."

* * *

 _Holy hell! Who's bright idea was it to start clanking glasses like this was some kind of freaking wedding!?_

While Tony had designed his earbud to tune out most frequencies, that apparently did _not_ include loud, obnoxious, high-pitched metal-on-glass. Immediately, his ear had flared in agony, the pain taking his breath away and had him blindly searching and scrambling out the nearest door. He wasn't sure if anyone saw him nor did he care. Well, he kind of cared, but that was hardly the point right now. He sat hunched over in the deserted hallway he had practically fallen into, right hand awkwardly cupped around his left ear, trying to salve the suffering he was enduring. His injured arm was doing its best to hold in the fiery flames that were his ribs from the spastic movement, his shirt clinging to his back from sweat and, he could only assume, blood.

 _Stupid barbarian, thumping him like that! Probably ripped a few stitches, too. Pepper was going to be PISSED!_

He missed the footsteps. The slapping of rubber on linoleum was not quiet, but the ringing in his ears didn't even allow his good ear to pick up the sounds. Through watery eyes, he couldn't fail to notice the brown pair of dress shoes that appeared in his line of vision, though. Looking up, he caught sight of an unfamiliar face.

 _Damn! Guess someone did notice._

The face was mouthing something. Tony didn't have the energy or capacity right now to figure it out. He shook his head, eyes closing involuntarily against the pain, hand remaining in its protective state around his ear.

A hand grabbed his, pulling Tony's makeshift protection away and causing Tony to flinch, eyes reopening in anger at the audacity. The scene wasn't what he had expected. There had been two people and now there was a new face. Ryker's face. The anger quickly fled into shock.

* * *

Tony was missing.

They had been searching for the past few minutes, but so far, between the six of them, no one could find hide nor hair of the eccentric man. Pepper was beside herself with worry - Bruce doing what he could to keep her calm - while Natasha and Thor set up a slight distraction to keep the guests from getting suspicious. Steve and Clint resuming the search.

Steve hadn't even noticed the door behind him, looking around wildly, until he heard a muffled yelp. It was stunted by the door and noise going on in the grand hall, but with his enhanced hearing, Steve was just able to make it out.

Worry leapt in his throat as he threw open the door and tore down the hallway behind it, seeing two unknown men looming over his wayward friend.

* * *

Ryker saw the flicker of Tony's eyes before he found himself staring down the barrel of a black, 9 mm handgun. Swiftly, he took two strides backwards, hands raised in surrender. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his companion doing the same.

Tony shot up as well, shaking legs hardly strong enough to hold the _genius_ up. His arm shot forward and grabbed the top of the gun, face glistening with sweat and a grimace set in place.

"Steve, no! It's okay." Confusion and doubt flashed across the Super Soldier's eyes. "Promise..."

The rest of Tony's sentence diminished as he hugged his chest tighter with a moan, the sudden movement reigniting the agony, legs crumbling from under him. The good Captain adjusted his grip on the gun to both grab Tony from falling, yet keeping his weapon trained on Ryker.

An arrow accompanied the barrel and Steve allowed his attention to switch to Tony, the man ghost-white and shaking.

"Easy, Tony. I've got you." Tony just nodded, in too much pain to verbalize anything else. Steve got him sitting on the tiled floor, chest heaving, head leaned back against the wall, arms wrapped protectively around his ribs. "We need Bruce."

"No, 's okay. Give me a minute." The standstill remained as Tony struggled to reign in the pain.

"Who are you?" Clint's question prompted Steve to look up at the surrendered men. The man who had been leaning over Tony when he came in the hallway stared back, face blank. The other man shifted side to side, obviously uncomfortable.

 _He'd be the one to break_ , thought Steve.

Silence. Tension thick in air.

"Ernst." The man swallowed thickly, accent mild. "Ernst Schleiffer."

"And your friend?"

"Ryker Sawyer," Tony replied heavily for the man, attempting once again to stand. Steve his movement, ignoring the annoyed look Tony sent him.

"Yeah? What's he want with you?" Clint's eyes never leaving those of Ryker's.

"Don't know." The weariness rolled in waves off the injured man. "You guys interrupted us."

"Well?" Clint once again aimed his demand at Ryker. The man continued to stare back. Clint pulled his bow back a notch more.

"Clint, stop," Tony growled out. Two sets of bewildered eyes flickered his way. "He's not a threat. Neither of them are. Lower your weapon."

"The hell they're not! Tony, do you remember a minute ago when they were standing over you, doing who knows what?!"

"Uh yeah, they were helping me."

"What?" Clint lowered his bow a little, letting the string relax.

"But...?"

"Glass. Ear." Tony motioned lazily with his hand. Steve widened his eyes, questioningly.

"Mister Stark's ear became tremendously painful when everyone started clinking their glasses. He tried to escape the noise in here. We found him and came in to speak with him, but saw him in pain. We were trying to help when you jammed your gun in Doctor Sawyer's face." Surprised looks once again adorned Clint and Steve's faces.

"Oh, you're a doctor? Like a medical doctor or...?"

"He's a medical doctor," Ernst supplied once more.

"Why doesn't he speak?"

"He can't. Or rather, he's deaf and doesn't know what you're saying."

Clint stashed his bow away quick as lightning. _'Sorry, Doctor Sawyer, we didn't know who you were.'_ Clint was happy to note that, for once, it was the Doctor that seemed surprised and not them.

 _'You know sign language?'_

 _'Yep. Been mostly deaf for most of my life. Still have a little hearing though.'_ The doctor nodded knowingly. _'Ahh, could you check him out for us?'_ Clint motioned towards Tony who was still sitting hunched over on the floor, surreptitiously leaning against Steve for support. Doctor Sawyer nodded.

"Hey, not an invalid here." Tony whimpered out, having a chance to watch the exchange in the quiet. His voice sounded harsh, like the drugs Bruce gave him were starting to wear off. Doctor Sawyer approached anyway, mindless of the daggers Tony was throwing.

The man ignored Tony's incredulous stare. Inspecting the offended ear, Ryker removed the earbud to peer closer. He moved away, turning to talk to Clint. The pain had started to recede to a more tolerable level and Tony took the opportunity to straighten up a bit.

 _'He's re-torn his eardrum. Probably hurts like hell, but he'll be fine. The rest of him, I can't know without doing a more thorough examination.'_

 _'Should he go to the hospital?'_

 _'He's fine now, so if you'll excuse me.'_ Tony was never so glad to know sign language than right now and had this been five minutes ago, he would have been geeking out, but his pride right now was telling him to flee.

Ryker Sawyer was an extremely accomplished Otolaryngologist. Probably the best in the world - well, at least he was until he fell off the map - and a man who was also deaf. Since his diagnosis, Tony had read everything the man had written when he wasn't allowed in the lab - secreting his tablet from Pepper so he could read while resting - and was shocked when he had seen him in the back of the room. Every time he tried to get closer, someone had blocked him so they could talk with the great Tony Stark.

Now, here Ryker was with a front-row seat to Tony's vulnerability. Not the first impression Tony wanted to make.

A hand on his arm stopped him. He went to push it off, but stumbled. Two pain of hands - Steve's and Ryker's - steadied him.

 _'Mister Stark, please. May I have a word with you?'_

 _'Thanks for checking up on me, but really, I'm fine. I'd appreciate it if we all just forgot about all this and called it a night.'_

"Tony, you're in no condition to go back out there," Steve protested as Tony tried to move off towards the party. Clint signed Steve's sentiment for Ryker, keeping the man in the loop; Tony's exasperated expression not guilting him in the least for doing it either.

 _'Not a problem, Mister Stark. I understand your desire for discrepancy, but I wanted to discuss a proposition with you.'_

Tony frowned. _'Pepper deals with all that now.'_ Normally, he would have fled and left it at that, but something - rather, someone - was preventing him.

 _'I know and I've been trying for months to get an appointment. Please, sir, if you could take one moment.'_

 _'First off, my name's Tony. Second, fine. Let's put it in the books. Say tomorrow at noon? That work for you?'_ He really just wanted to leave. His vocal cords were starting to tingle, a sure sign the compound was wearing off.

A smile of relief broke Ryker's countenance. _'That would be fine. Thank you, Mister Stark.'_

 _'Yeah, okay. Whatever. And it's Tony.'_ He turned to leave again and once more Steve prevented his escape. _'What, Rogers?'_ He already knew his voice wouldn't work anymore. Luckily, Steve could pick up that much on his own.

"Clint went to go get Pepper and the car for you. You're to stay here."

 _'I'm not a child, Steve. I'll be fine.'_ He gingerly wiggled his way out of Steve's grip.

"Oh no you don't!" rang through the halls.

 _Busted!_

Sighing, he turned towards his girlfriend. "Before you say it, don't 'But Pepper' me! Clint told us what happened. There's no way you're going back out there. Bruce is mad too, so don't look for any sympathy from him either." Pepper marched past, heading toward the back exit, her heels clicking loudly in the silence that followed her announcement.

Tony rolled his eyes at Ryker, sighed in defeat, and trudged after her, Steve hovering nearby just in case.


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Bow? Tied. Nicely wrapped? Check. Easy out? You bet'cha!_

 _I think I've dragged this one out long enough. Here's an all-encompassing 'sorry!' for any slights any of y'all may be feeling - not my_ _intention. Thank_ _you to all who have read, reviewed, and/or commented. It was an interesting experience throwing a story on the internet like this and seeing the results. Wouldn't have been possible or completed without all of you. Enjoy and many thanks! -SPS_

 _Disclaimer: For the final time, they are not mine._

* * *

 _Is it appropriate for adults to skip?_

Tony had his patent-pending, cocky-as-shit smirk plastered on his face, sunglasses firmly secured upon his nose, and a swagger in his step as he stepped off the podium, having finished his announcement on yet another new product from Stark Industries. The media loved it every time SI began a new quest to help out mankind that wasn't military related.

Today, Tony had presented the world with the newest and best alternative to cochlear implants that had less negative side effects and more hearing range as well - all thanks to one Doctor Ryker Sawyer, who was now on staff. And, most importantly, Tony had given the announcement sans any drugs of any kind in his system! His voice felt strong and back to normal, his body was recuperating splendidly, and his hand was feeling stronger and better every day as well. His doctors had even told him earlier that they were optimistic that he would regain full function and mobility in his hand, so all systems were a go!

Thus the almost insatiable urge to skip. He was so doing it when he got back to the Tower. Maybe pick up some daisies on the way home and throw those from a small basket around the penthouse while skipping in circles. Or... maybe have sex with Pepper.

 _Yep, definitely that last one._

He sighed in contentment as the elevator door closed behind him. Leaning back, he couldn't help but think his recovery wouldn't have been possible - or at least not as quick - had Ryker not shown up.

The man had been at his wit's end by the time the gala had come around. He and his wife had lost a child a couple years ago. She moved out, he delved into his work. By the time he came up for air, he was close to losing his house, car, and all other forms of property. The months of trying to get an audience with Pepper and SI throwing more tension on an already strained situation. The man had used his absolute last penny for a ticket to the gala in the hopes of getting the slightest chance to talk with Tony. He had to admire the man's courage and tenacity.

The interview hadn't really gone Pepper's way, but he was still the owner and could throw his weight around - oh, and this other, little title of Director of Research and Development, which meant he could and did hire Ryker because of his research.

Initially, he proposed that they conduct a trade: Ryker could begin production of his new hearing aid prototype in exchange for helping Tony and Bruce find a cure for Tony's vocal cord impairment. It couldn't hurt to have the world's leading ear, nose, and throat doctor (with a specialty in vocal cords, he later recalled) helping the two other geniuses. The math seemed to add itself up with that one.

When Ryker balked at the offer, Tony threw in free room and board at the Tower while they worked together. The man pretty much agreed after that and when Tony learned via Bruce about his life story - and because his hearing aid was actually pretty advanced and awesome! - Tony hired him on full-time.

It had taken the three of them four months to find the solution. It had driven Tony _nuts_ but it was all worth it as he hummed to himself now; the simple action drawing another smile from the energetic man. Jarvis stopped the elevator, letting him off at his lab so he could work while Pepper finished up her CEO-ing duties.

Walking in, he snapped and smiled even wider, commanding his bots to "Wake up. Daddy's home!" Rolling up his sleeves, music blaring without a hint of an ear or headache, Tony delved into upgrading Clint's bow.

* * *

"Sir, Miss Potts is finished for the day and on her way up."

"Thanks, J. Do me a favor and continue running these tests, will ya?"

"Certainly, sir." Throwing the towel he had used to wipe his hands off, Tony skipped - _finally_ \- to his elevator. Pepper was home and he was ready for some loving!

Jarvis stopped him on the communal floor.

"Uh, J, what's up?"

"Miss Potts requested I bring you here."

"Okay, sure." Walking out of the elevator, Tony turned towards the kitchen where he could hear his team talking with Pepper.

"Tony!" They all chorused as he entered the room.

"Team." He looked over at Pepper. "Why are all these people in my Tower? Don't they have homes somewhere?"

"Tony!" The admonishment was half-hearted, as was the slap to his shoulder.

"Fine, be that way. We'll just take our cake and leave."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, Katniss. Did you say 'cake?' Maybe you guys could stick around for a few minutes." The group laughed at the easy banter. "But seriously, what's the occasion?"

"Well, you're finally back to normal - well, what's normal for you." Tony tilted his head in confusion at that, Natasha shaking her head to dispel her own at the words. "So we can properly celebrate your and Steve's recoveries."

"Wait. My recovery?" Steve's bewilderment signaling he had been told this little shindig had been solely for Tony. "I had a bout of withdrawal that was significantly reduced because of the serum. Tony had a much harder and longer struggle." Tony vividly remembered their incarceration and knew that he and Steve still needed to have a proper talk about what happened; Steve's experience and addiction was in no way easier or less painful than Tony's - well, not any easier anyway.

"No, I was there too. You deserve this as much as I do, Spangles." Tony voiced, hand gently squeezing the man's shoulder.

"Yeah, but, Steve. Next time..."

"I really hope there is no next time!" Steve moaned.

"I second that," Tony raising his index finger to emphasize his point, nods accompanying their sentiments.

" _Next time_ someone offers you drugs, Steve, it's okay to just say 'no!'" Groans echoed throughout the room at Clint's terrible joke, his cackle doing nothing to abate them.

"That's it. I'm taking your cake and kicking you out. Bad puns are not allowed here." Clint continued to laugh, a few more joining in this time.

A sudden explosion shook the floor and all playfulness vanished.

"What was that?"

"Sounded like it came from within the Tower."

"Are we under attack?"

"Tony, where are you going?" Tony faltered as Pepper's question attracted the others' attentions.

"Uh, nowhere."

"Tony, what was that?"

"Nothing." A glare. "Might have miscalibrated a little." Bruce closed his eyes, shaking his head knowingly. "I'll just..." Another, smaller explosion. "...check that out." He backed up a few paces. "Might need to, uh, hold on to your bow a little longer, Logolas."

He turned and fled toward the stairs, a strangled "I'm going to _kill_ you, Stark!" and archer thudding down after him.


End file.
